Just Checking
by DarkVampire111
Summary: Oswald visits Wayne manor after the bridges fall to check on a little, rich teen he suspects might be there.
1. Chapter 1

Penguin goes to see Bruce post season 4, probably less than a day after the season finally.

Basically just wanted to see more of these characters interact and I wanted to see parental- ish Oswald again.

* * *

 ** Just Checking**

The air itself was stifling even though the weather had not changed. It was the same Gotham, only much, much worse, far darker, and far more repressed.

Things had seemed bad when the virus was released but with the city cut off from all other places, an island unto themselves, things were darker than ever before. It was that sense making the air feel thicker and harsher in the lungs.

They all knew to varying degrees, that they were totally alone and there was nothing but Gotham. No help would come, so saviors, no angels. There was little hope left.

Oswald had a place carved out for himself already. He won it, struggled for it as he did with most things, and as usual, he prevailed. There were few who could challenge him even now. With a highly strategic mind, no matter how far he fell or was thrown, he always came out on top. But for now, much of the city was still scrambling, terrified and disorganized. Most had not found their feet just yet save the very strongest forces of all, such as Penguin himself.

He was not overly worried about his power base as he had things in the works to bring him back to the top of the top. He was a surviver, after all. A spin doctor. Even disaster could not hold him long.

It was not fear that brought him to the outskirts of what was left of Gotham. It was, of all things, worry. Not even for himself, which would have been logical, even expected. No, it was the pesky softer side he always tried to kill off. His heart was as resilient as he was and refused to just die.

When he drove near and saw light glowing inside, he knew young Bruce was there, that his hunch had been on point.

The shuffling drag of his walk likely gave away exactly who he was long before the young Wayne would ever see him. Though it was clear enough that the boy wasn't even making an effort to hide his location. The only light in the whole house is focused only in what Oswald deduced is a study. The front door wasn't even locked, as if it was a dare, a challenge, an invitation. It's a foolish sort of play and Oswald can't fathom what might have not only possessed the boy to stay but to also leave himself so vulnerable.

He found the boy in the study, bent over some manner of device he could not even begin to deduce the purpose of.

He watched Bruce work, so focused, so tense, like a coiled snake eyeing a mongoose. Bruce never looked up but he was the first to speak.

"What are you doing here, Mr. Cobblepot?" The tone was dark, something of a growl, yet inexplicably still polite.

"Hard at work, I see." Oswald deigned not to respond with an answer so Bruce chose not to bother answering.

Oswald leaned on his cane, eyeing the youth, "Why exactly are you still here? With your money and connections... if anyone in the world could get out, it would be you."

"I have no intention of leaving." Bruce told him succinctly.

Oswald allowed his irritation to shine through in his voice, "And why not?"

"I have my reasons." Bruce offered, still not so much as glancing up.

"Would Miss Kyle be one of those reasons?"

If Oswald expected the boy to lie, he was instantly proven wrong when Bruce said, "Yes, among other things."

Selina was a nice enough kid, he liked her, kept her around once upon a time. She was like most street kids, a typical stray, a little alley cat, but there was something different about her too. He could not fault the kid for being taken with her, she got under a person's skin.

"Listen, Bruce... I think you might be in need of a reality check. I like you, so I'm going to give it to you."

"I'm fully aware what my choices mean, thank you." Bruce replied evenly.

"Do you really?" Oswald doubted it very much, "Because I'm not certain you grasp the severity of what has happened."

Bruce abandoned his work, snapping to his feet to finally look at his visitor with fire in his eyes, "Actually, Oswald, I think I've got the main points in order." He still sounded calm, logical, but there was steel running under the surface, "Jeremiah joined forces with Ras, cooking up an insane plan that put every single life in Gotham at risk, and they did it to get to me. Everything that has happened, to the city, to Selina, to anyone, is on me."

The coiled irritation in Oswald's shoulders released, letting them sag, "You think this is your fault?"

The sad edge, the lost little thing he'd glimpsed hiding under everything, showed itself as something in Bruce's eyes crumbled.

Oswald hated that look, it reminded him of loss, watching parents die, "As I said, reality check, my young friend!" He was not often one to give a pep talk but there were times he took it upon himself, "Let me explain something to you right now... The choices other people make independently from you, are not your fault. People make choices, that's not on you."

"They only did this because of me, to get me to-"

"No, wrong!" Penguin snapped, "They are delusional psychopaths! Anything could and would eventually have set them off. If not you, it would have been someone else. It being you that they fixated on does not mean it's your responsibility to fix what damage they caused. All you did was cross paths with them, which doesn't make it your fault."

"How is it not my fault? All this started because Ras believed I was his heir for some stupid legend! None of this would have happened if not for that!"

"How, pray tell, are you supposed to control what other people believe? Do you have mind manipulation powers the rest of us are not aware of?" Penguin offered his very best, most incredulous, patented expression of 'oh, please.'

"It's not just Ras, it's Jeremiah too! I pulled him into the situation with Jerome! If I hadn't, maybe he never would have ended up like this!" The frayed edges of Bruce Wayne were showing.

The pressure he was under, for such a young thing, was more than most adults were prepared to endure and stay sane, keep from being unhinged. He was a yarn ball of emotion; guilt, grief, loss, all of it; and the events of the past few days had gotten ahold of both ends of the string to pull.

Oswald could see it, he'd been there himself more than a few times. He'd unraveled and pulled the tattered remnants back together and things never fit the same the second time, or the third, or fourth.

He hated watching this kid, the same one that once stood up in front of a crowd and earnestly asked him to show mercy and allow justice to work. He'd seen the good, tender heart under the rich boy then and there. Bruce was too good for Gotham. He was what Jim and many others had once been; a believer in all the potential good. Gotham killed good things. It's what the city did. He did not actually want to see it kill this boy any more than he'd wanted it to strangle Martin.

Gotham may have been mother to them all, but she was cruel indeed.

"Oh please, that little brat was crazy before he met you! He lived in an underground maze! How sane do you really think he could have been? And besides, he was related the Jerome! From what I've heard, they were all crazy, circus freaks! Are you really trying to claim responsibility for that?"

"Jeremiah is my responsibility!" Bruce all but screamed, "I'm going to bring him in!"

Oswald nodded, tapping his cane on the wooden floor, "Is that why you're staying then? You find him, get revenge for what he did to Gotham... or your Selina?"

"Not revenge, justice. I'm going to bring him in and he's going to stand trial for everything he's done!"

Oswald nodded again, stretching his lips into a patronizing smile, "You're going to do that alone? Then what? Magically fix everything? Feed the hungry? Solve world problems? I guess the world is yours to fix now? Because you're Bruce Wayne?"

Bruce glared but did not take the bait, "I will find Jeremiah and bring him to the police, to jail, where he belongs. Where he can't cause more suffering."

Oswald spread his hands to the side, still smiling, "Then you get to be the big hero! You get to tell Selina that you brought down the man that hurt her. Is that going to fix everything then?"

"I know it won't fix everything, but it will prevent anything else he might be planning. Ras is gone so that only leaves Jeremiah to deal with." Bruce's jaw was clenched so tight it could not have been good for his teeth.

Yes, the madman had turned to dust right in front of young Bruce. That must really have stirred up a mass of mixed emotions for someone that really believed in traditional justice ideals.

"Oh, that's right, I suppose I should congratulate you on killing off the... what was it? Demon Head?" Bingo, that struck a nerve as Bruce straightened up like a robot, refusing to answer, "I'm sure that must have felt pretty good!"

Bruce cast his eyes to the ground and still said nothing.

"I suppose you'll feel the same kind of victory once you've got Jeremiah at your mercy. Vindication!" Oswald offered casually.

"I'm not going to kill anyone. Not even him."

"Not even him?" Oswald pressed, pretending only mild interest.

"I stabbed Ras once before, with the knife I bought from you. I... killed him once because I... but I learned from that. I learned that killing is not the answer. It's not... the right way. It just makes you like them, takes you down a dark path, makes you hurt other people. It's not worth the price."

For someone who's soul was still pure, no, it would not be worth the price taking a life extracted, "No, it's not worth it. It's good that you figured that out before you lost your humanity." He found he did not want to see Bruce turn out anything like he had, it would be a tragedy to see him tainted like that.

Bruce cocked his head, curious, pup like, "Have you lost your humanity?"

Oswald let go a short, sharp laugh, "Oh yes! Long ago, I'm afraid. There is no going back once it's gone, only surrender."

Once, he'd had the chance, been on his way to a clear future, but then his father was murdered in his place. Things had nearly been different once, his father had been leading his into the light. Now the light was out.

"Are you sure, Oswald?" Bruce asked quietly.

"Quite sure." Oswald sniffed.

"Then why did you come here? If you'd come to rob me you'd have brought your men."

No Oswald was not there to rob the estate. Actuary, he'd spread the word that he'd claimed it as his own, a side territory to carry great penalties if anyone tried to step in. It might not save t, and he had no plans to check on it frequently, but he'd made the effort.

"Idle curiosity, I suppose." Oswald shrugged.

"So you didn't come here to check on me?"

Oswald laughed loudly, "Oh, please! Don't be ridiculous! I simply wondered what you were up to out here. I've always been a curious person by nature. But overall, I am disappointed in what I've found." Penguin pointed his gloved finger at the boy, "You should take the chance while you have it and leave Gotham! You could still play hero from the other side! Lobby for us, work a crowd, the media, on our behalf. It's not like you could not be useful."

"I can do more from here, where I know what the issues are. I can run away, go to safety, when others can't. My name should not be a free pass to escape hardships others have to deal with."

Penguin offered a flat look, "You really are encouragable, you know that?"

Bruce smiled for the first time, "I've been called worse, actually."

"Of that I have no doubt!" Oswald smirked flapping his hand in the air, "But fine then, ignore my advice, do what you will!"

"I've been known to ignore advice regularly, don't feel too bad." Bruce was no longer smiling but there was a ghost of it remaining.

Oswald turned partially to leave, "If you change your mind, let me know, I could be convinced to house sit for you."

Something like a dark chuckle left Bruce, "I'll keep your application in mind."

"Try not to get yourself killed out there, it's a madhouse, you know!"

"I know, Oswald."

Penguin hobbled down the halls, making his way to the car. He felt no sense of ease, no relief. He had not managed to accomplish what he went to do, not really. Bruce was staying in Gotham, most likely destined to join force with Gordon. The situation was no less grim.

Bruce might be crushed in the melee but he'd done what he could. It saddened him more than he cared to admit but perhaps he had underestimated the courage and tenacity of the teen. Bruce had, after all, survived quite a lot. Bruce was also a survivor. They had that in common.

Under other circumstances they might even have been friends to some extent. As it was, he still liked Bruce. He might not go out of his way to save him next time but he would not do the opposite either.

He hoped Bruce survived, sane, and whole. Most people in Gotham did not.

* * *

I just wanted to have more interacting between the two since we don't get much. I think they are an interesting mix of personalities. They both have done common ground on loss but they responded in totally opposite ways to it.  
I think Oswald honesty likes Bruce too, based off their interactions. Oswald would have seen how unstable Bruce was after Selina and the bridges and I really think he'd have been worried  
Maybe enough to check. That's all there is to this story. Just a maybe. A maybe on how Bruce was reminded, after he'd beaten up a bunch of people asking about Jeremiah, that he doesn't believe in killing his enemies. He was a bit unhinged at the end of season 4, for good reason. And he was blaming himself.  
Someone needed to talk to him. Sometimes you need a slight reminder to center yourself.  
No real point to this, like at all! Just musing. Though I'm kind of thinning of doing another one like this only with Oswald checking on Jim after the explosion in the green zone.  
You can't convince me, no matter what the writers try, that he's heartless. Cold, calculated, bitter, morbid, dark, cruel, yeah, but not totally heartless. Not for people he knows.  
He could have killed Barbara, could have killed Jim instantly in that stand off, but he tried to talk them down because he didn't want them dead. He fully intended to take Mr Penn back after he left, tried to save the guy. So on. I could build a case but not right now


	2. Chapter 2

The bite in the air was so typical of Gotham, even distanced from the cold wind blowing over the ocean. Though there was a breeze it did not make it cold enough to sting his nose nor checks to turn them red. It was not freezing, a typical suit was enough even without an outer coat, though his guards all had on leather coats and were clearly not too hot. Oswald had more layers than they did though, so it evened out.

The men they were meeting at the very edge of the designated Penguin territory were dressed more irrationally in cut off sleeves with holes and leather vests. They were the rough types that likely did not have enough brain power to walk, talk, and feel temperature all at once. At least his own people looked better than the ragtags.

He had to deal with them though just as they had to deal with him. Trade was the new market, supply and demand made for eclectic partners. Partner was a strong word, come to think of it. It was more like a one-night stand sort of thing in the trade sense. They both had a need that could be met in the other, but they would likely never speak again. After smelling them, he should be so lucky never to see them again.

Since the threats from Tabitha, he did not stray from his own territory much because he was hardly stupid; eventually, he would need to make contact with the Sirens, find a way or reason to test the waters and open trade as they were a major player in the new hierarchy, but not yet. He would, however, venture to the edges of his turf in order to be sure the negotiation was done right with the lesser players. Mr. Penn was already negotiating with another gang, so he had no other options but to handle this one or have the trade likely botched by his brawny but not brainy employees.

He did dearly miss having Butch at his side some days. Days like this one when he could have used someone with both muscle and intelligence even if Butch could be a bit dense at times. They might not have been perfect friends, and he did not, per se, regret exacting revenge... he just wished he had not been forced to proverbially cut off his nose to spite his face. He could have used Butch in this post-apocalypse... could have used a friend.

If he were not so wary of anyone coming close to his location, he might not have noted the commotion heading his way from the other side of the territory lines. As it was, he could not fathom what the uproar was about. Surely not the exchange, that had already been negotiated and he knew he had not shorted them, he was also not intent to poison future trade with this or any gang by _obviously_ swindling them, _covertly_ , yes, but not openly. Particularly not the mesh up of all the old biker group types that composed the Street Demons. If someone in his employ botched this up he would-

"Hey, Penguin! Do you know this kid? Calls himself Matches Malone." One of the rival gang members rasped in a long term smoker voice.

"He says he works for you." The one in an Akubra volunteered, accusing in tone, but it was unclear who he was more accusing of; Oswald or the boy. "Says he's just passing through, but we've never seen him before. He's snooping around!"

They dragged a filthy, shabbily clad young man before him. There were streaks of soot over the thin, angular face, smudges purposefully placed rather than dirt ground in from lack of upkeep the way the rest of the inhabitants of the area were. The clothes looked ill-fitting, like they had been stolen, which did fit with the general code of thievery, but that too did not fit.

This youth did not carry himself like a street rat, even encumbered by thugs, he stood proud and elegant the way people could only manage if they trained themselves to through years of studying the idle rich or were actually born with a silver spoon in their mouth. The well-bred ones, old bloodlines, true blue bloods always stood differently than the commoners, or even those with money and power but tainted blood like Falcone.

Oswald knew there was something off even before he caught sight of the face tipped down and hiding under a tattered ascot cap more commonly found on old men rather than young ones. He was surrounded by at least twenty thugs because apparently, the vast majority had nothing better to do than team up against lone figures. Those eyes that peeked up at him were wary, pleading, desperate for him not to recognize the dark-haired boy under the dirt, for the secret not to be revealed, but they were equally pleading for help.

He felt the same sort of dread, like the dawning understanding that things could just as easily go south as go well that he usually felt just before did anything Jim Gordon asked of him.

He could only guess at the reason the sole surviving Wayne was out of the Green Zone. It either had to do with stealing something for his paralytic lady love, or more likely, searching for her mad assailant and the scourge of Gotham. It would be foolish to involve himself in any way.

Unfortunately, he was a fool. Jim Gordon had proved that time and again because it was foolish each time Oswald helped him as well, yet he so often did it anyway.

Oswald made a show of squinting his eyes and shuffling closer, reaching out and tilting up the brim of the hat as if to get a better look at the face before he nodded, "Oh, yes, I know this one. He did odd jobs for me in the past. Small-time thief, a little bit of a firebug, gets the job done when he's told. I've had him do some jobs for me recently." Oswald made sure 'Malone' was looking him in the eye when he added. "Never has been too bright though."

The boy's defiant, worried frown eased just slightly to make room for hints of a wispy, sheepish smile.

When the brutes did not let the boy go Oswald's pulse ticked up and he raised his voice along with both hands to shoo them away with all due drama, "I said he's mine, so let the brat go and get on with what you're actually supposed to be doing!" He added with more venom, "Unless you want me to take back my half of the trade and forget the whole thing?" He let his voice dip to polite again, which usually frightened them more, "I haven't got all day!"

The threat got them scurrying like rats, racing for their respective spots. They honestly reminded Penguin of vermin more and more each time he ventured out of his citadel and he could not control the expression of revulsion at it before he turned back to Bruce. "You!" He pointed an accusing finger.

Bruce blinked at him, some of his distinct attitude of indifferent unflappability wavering in the face of an adult that could just as easily throw him back to the wolves as let him escape the mayhem. He looked exactly like a little boy caught in the wrong, waiting to see if the teacher that caught him would report it to his parent or let him go with a warning.

Oswald grabbed him by the arm, much the way Jim likely would have, dragging him to the parked car and away from the gawking, dangerous bystanders. Perhaps it was the similarity to Jim that kept the boy from struggling or maybe Bruce did not fight it because he was intelligent enough to know when he was being removed from a burning fire. They must have looked like quite the pare though; a graceful teenager dragged along by a waddling Penguin, the brace helped with the limp but it was not a total fix. Once he had Bruce safely tucked up to the car, the kingpin rounded on him.

"Whatever possessed you," he kept his voice to the menacing whisper that had men much older shriveling, though Bruce simply met him with a stubborn tilt of his jaw, "to roam around out here? Have you lost what little sense you had in that skull? Do you have any idea what they would do to you if they figured out who you are?" Oswald hissed, quiet, angry and a little frantic, "Just because you're a Wayne does not make you immune to all this!"

"No one would recognize me like this." Bruce offered with the ease of most overconfident teens that have not climbed the ladder of life and slipped off nearly enough times to instill healthy caution in them.

"Oh really?" Oswald sniffed hotly, "Then how do you explain me? Am I no one?"

"That's different, you've seen me in person, you actually know me. Most people have only seen me on the cover of a magazine or in the news."

Oswald had to close his eyes for a minute to keep from slapping that ridiculous, famous face, "That won't stop everyone! Some people are very good with faces. And what on earth kind of unimaginative, cliche name is 'Matches Malone' anyway? Do you masquerade as an arsonist?"

Bruce looked offended, "It's a real alias I got from some of the GCPD's old flies. He's dead but he was never very well known. I figured if I used someone's handle, someone might remember the name and accept it more easily. I also correctly assumed that saying I worked for you, the most powerful gang leader in Gotham, would keep them from killing me if I was caught."

Oswald sneered viciously, letting his irritation show, though not as much as he could have, "Came up with that idea on your own did you?"

Bruce was unruffled, "It's been working. Though I usually don't have to use it. They got lucky catching me this time."

"This time! Trust me, it only takes once! My name won't protect you everywhere! In some cases it will get you shot in the head! If I hadn't been here-" Oswald shook his head, brushed that particular topic to the side for a minute, "What are you doing out here besides causing me grief?"

"Looking for Jeremiah," Bruce answered simply, so easily it almost hurt. "I'm going to bring him in and see him put on trial for what he has done, give Gotham and Selina a little justice."

They had been over this and clearly, the first time had been useless.

Oswald let out a long, defeated sigh at the foolishness of the idea. A notion of absurdity he would only expect from a few people, Bruce being one of them. The very idea was lunacy on so very many levels, so unrealistic for a host of reasons. He was so young, full to the brim and spilling over with grand ideals only the truly young or delusional managed to hold onto. He really believed he could make a difference on his crusade to save a broken, disemboweled, burning city from utter collapse even though it was far too late. Idealistic, like Jim, once had been and still often was, sure of his ability to save everyone if he only tried hard enough.

It made Oswald want to reach out and shake him till he understood, there were no happy endings, no last-minute victories, only cold reality. Justice was a farce, especially now in a lawless world of kill or be killed, eat or be eaten. He would die just like his parents if he kept it up. It made something twist painfully inside of him to think of it even though he had no reason at all to care.

"Shouldn't you be at the hospital or working on grand techno cures with Fox rather than out here frighten me like that?" Oswald chided.

"I told you before, I plan to find Jeremiah and that has not changed. Jeremiah is my responsibility."

Oswald rolled his eyes to prove exactly what he thought of that, "Yes, yes, I remember! You are going to find Jeremiah, bring about world peace, and end world hunger singlehandedly!"

Bruce sighed and leaned up against the car, crossing his arms over his chest, "I have to do this. I know you think it's a fool's errand, but I have to at least try."

"And what have you found out then, besides dangerous gangs are perfectly active and you are not _actually invisible_?"

Bruce did not look him in the face, "Nothing yet, I'm still working on it. He seems to have vanished."

"Then risking dismemberment was clearly worth it," Oswald said with false cheer before he rolled his eyes again and gripped the door handle, "Get in the car. Now."

Bruce did not protest, he simply climbed in obediently.

Oswald followed him in, sinking into the seat with a long-suffering sigh, not exactly defeated but not hanging onto his usual fight either, "How happy would your butler be if he knew you were out here?"

"Likely not very, but he is keeping watch over Selina."

Oswald pursed his lips and fixed his eyes on the roof of the car, "How on earth does that poor man stay sane around you when you pull these kinds of antics? I'm surprised he is not a nervous wreck!"

Bruce half smiled, "He has sort of given up on seeing me live the quiet, peaceful life he used to try to shepherd me into with trips to out of the way villas and cabins. He's kind of resigned himself to the fact that he can't prevent the inevitable. Trouble finds me all on its own, I might as well play an active part in it."

"Being resigned in his lack of ability to stop you does not mean the man has a moment of peace, you know."

"I know... I know he worries. He trusts he, after all this time, to know what I'm doing, at least in part. But he has ways to track me. I know about them but I don't bother trying to avoid them. We're partners in 'crime' most of the time. He's not exactly one to sit idle either. He was not always a butler, you know?"

Oswald could not help chuckling, "Yes, I am aware of his skills. And you have been more than lucky to have that man on your side, I might add. It's always good to have someone like him in your corner."

"I know," Bruce agreed more than easily, "I would have been dead a hundred times over without him."

"Oh yes, I'm sure you would have. What with the little I know about you... your propensity to get on the list of the wrong people. I have personally witnessed a few of your more colorful escapades of near death."

Bruce actually looked him in the eye then, seemingly amused, "Are you referencing the time you and the others saved me from being some sort of sacrifice or are you talking about the time you showed up at my house with a bazooka?"

The laugh bubbled out of Oswald without intent, "You did look very... ridiculous in the white gown. It was highly medieval!"

"It really was, with a dark dungeon and everything." Bruce agreed as if the whole thing had not been moments from seeing him dead. "That's not even counting all my run-ins with the court of owls."

"You live a colorful life, my young friend."

Bruce cocked a brow, "And you don't?"

Oswald offered him a sly look, "I'm older than you are."

Bruce narrowed his eyes, "That has nothing to do with it."

"Of course it does. You'll understand when you're older." Oswald teased.

The teen rolled his eyes, "Fine, fine, it's not as if I've never heard that particular line before."

"You really should stop running around and trying to get yourself killed before you are old enough to drink legally, you know?"

Bruce did not look at all chastised, "Alfred always used to insist I needed to live a normal life for 'boys my age' and that never worked overly well. I don't really think I'm cut out for the normal type of life. Even when I've tried to stay out of trouble, someone tends to pull me into it. Like when the Court made me promise not to investigate them, Ivy, before she went to work for you, stole something that led back to the Court, so I still ended up getting involved in order to help her."

There was another kid he'd grown to care about, then failed. He still wished that had gone... much differently. Hindsight was always very keen while not so clear in the moment.

"She told me a bit about that. I suppose that's Gotham for you." Oswald agreed, "It is not really the place for a quiet life unless you hole up in a cave. Even then, you might end up infected with some toxin or other just by living in the wrong location."

Bruce fell silent for quite a while as they waited together for the driver to return so they could leave.

Eventually, Bruce turned back to him, eyes younger than they had been since the exchange began, "Do you think Gotham will ever go back to being normal?"

Oswald ran a finger over his brow, trying to work out what to answer, "Normal? No, not normal. Gotham has never been normal a day since it was founded." That was not what Bruce needed or wanted to hear though, "But eventually, with some luck, a bit of time, and people like you and your morally upstanding friends at the GCPD... we'll get back to something like normal."

Oswald was unsure if he believed that but he felt he needed to try to soothe. Bruce was still a child; a child forced to grow up far too early by tragedy, but a child even so. "One day, this will all be like a bad dream, Bruce. Gotham is full of survivors. We will move past it and eventually, we will all be back on our feet." He nudged the boy with his elbow playfully, "Perhaps not as fine, upstanding, squeaky clean, law-abiding citizens... but you can't have everything."

Bruce chuckled, actually smiling, and that was all Oswald had really wanted.

The young Wayne ended up falling asleep before they were able to leave and Oswald venomously shushed his driver and ordered him to drive very carefully in order to prevent him from waking up. It was clear enough by the dark shadows under his eyes that he needed the rest. He likely had not slept much since Jeremiah attacked Selina and it all began. Granted, most people did not sleep particularly well these days but Oswald did not care about everyone. That had always been an aspect of his personality, he was not a humanitarian, he did not care about all the world. Oswald cared about a select few people in the world and the rest could go die for all he cared. However, if he did become fond of anyone... well, then he was fond of them. Then they were his; his to look after, his to protect, his to shelter, and his to kill on occasion, but always his.

Oswald was fond of Bruce. The boy had grown on him over time without his really knowing it, but Bruce was his now. He was very protective of the boy these days. Perhaps it was Martin's fault really. Oswald always thought he hated children until he was made to realize he did not hate all children. But perhaps it was Bruce's fault. The rich boy had grown on him long before he ever knew Martin. Maybe the two boys unknowingly worked together to make him soft.

Either way, the kingpin found himself wishing he could tuck the poor, though still rich, boy up into bed and let him sleep for a few weeks. It was likely exactly what he needed. He looked rather adorable with his head lolled back on the seat, so much younger when he was relaxed, shockingly trusting for a boy sitting in the back of a car with a known killer. Had it not occurred to him that Oswald could hold him hostage against the Green Zone? That Jim Gordon would, in fact, bargain away most anything for his safe return? Did Bruce not realize that a lot of people in Gotham would still pay almost any price to get their hands on him either to save him or harm him?

Such a trusting young thing. It made Oswald think even more of Martin and wish for families he was not at all cut out to have but he would have liked to be.

He never would have dreamed, back when he turned snitch and reported about the Wayne's deaths... he never would have thought he would one day actually care about the kid. He'd claimed to be sad for the child then but it had not been true as it was now. He almost wished he had known Bruce sooner. Maybe they could have been good for each other once. They both watched their parents die, they understood each other in that if in nothing else.

Ah well. It was hardly the first thing he lamented not getting the chance to seize in his past. Having a family was clearly not in the cards for him as every bit of family he'd had was always ripped from him with violence. He deserved that, he supposed, because of the way he lived.

Bruce had the same problem though, and he hadn't done anything to deserve it, which proved that life was cruel and unfair. Even so, it did make him feel a connection to the kid.

Still, he could not exactly adopt the kid, nor would he be good for him any more than he had been for Martin. Being a distant, surrogate mobster Uncle to Bruce would have to be enough. He could watch, occasionally intervene if there was too much trouble, but ultimately stay away.

It was not as if he could really reach out and check up on him any more than he had done on occasion. Upstanding, moral people like that did not generally get involved with kingpins and let them unofficially adopt them. Bruce was too much trouble anyway, he would have heart failure daily. Perhaps it was best not to be overly involved. He was getting too sentimental in an apocalyptic world. He could not keep Bruce the way he did his dog.

As much as he no longer believed in happy endings, looking at the boy, the sad, damaged young man, he dearly hoped Bruce might find his rather than chasing monsters the rest of his life. Being a white knight slaying dragons would exact a great price and Oswald hoped Bruce would not have to pay it.

* * *

You can't convince me that Bruce went around looking for Jeremiah in his usual billowy black coat and did not bother trying to hide at all. At least not without getting caught and we know he searched around as much as he dared because he told Selina he did. Thus, I conclude he must have occasionally hidden himself.


End file.
